


Folie à Trois

by YogurtTime



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Double Anal Penetration, Handcuffs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Obsession, Sexual Coercion, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2019-02-18 16:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13103652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YogurtTime/pseuds/YogurtTime
Summary: Nakamaru knew Taguchi really well; probablytoowell considering Nakamaru hadn’t cared for him much when they were in training. Something about Taguchi had grown on him though and like any partnership under a long period of duress and hard work, they sharedeverything.





	Folie à Trois

 

 

The pavement was always sort of wet this side of town. The industrial scents-- smog, emissions and rain-- and its overall cloud of pollution lingered low. The valley was always under the worst conditions of weather. Half the time, it was raining; the other half it was overcast and foggy. Under the streetlights, the roads had a tendency to shine and the ugly was beautiful in its own detached sort of way.

Not that it made stakeouts any better.

“Why did you just wipe down the stick shift?” Nakamaru asked his partner. The car smelled like wet wipes and antibiotics. It was his car, but it still smelled like sugar frosting and lemon disinfectant.

His partner of five years, Taguchi Junnosuke, had some bad habits to his name. One being his tendency to get them in trouble because he never knew when to shut up, and then the fact that he was a neat-freak. Not even in the endearing, picks-up-after-himself sort of way, but in the way he once rearranged Nakamaru’s desk drawers according to size and colour of assorted paraphernalia-- a bit of a blighted system that to this day Nakamaru still didn’t understand, what with his stapler being set beside an old box of bandaids.

Taguchi folded the wet wipe and set it neatly in a ziploc bag like Nakamaru hadn’t said anything. He looked up only when their scanner let out a brief blare of tuneless feed. “Want a doughnut?” he said absently.

Nakamaru _always_ wanted a doughnut. It was their common ground and they wouldn’t have lasted anywhere near as long if they didn’t solve potential conflicts by stuffing something sweet and terrible for them in their mouths.

It was only when his mouth was full of jelly that he was able to say quite amiably, “So this is it, eh? We could actually do this _tonight_..”

He received a bright smile for that, glaze crumbs lining his lower lip for seconds before his tongue was out, pink and wet licking up icing “Think they’ll applaud when we go in?”

Nakamaru knew they wouldn’t applaud. It was a bit ridiculous expecting a pat on the back for a job you were meant to have done years before.

Eighteen counts of burglary and high-profile theft; there was a great deal of disgrace to be faced when the city’s finest couldn’t apprehend the criminal who stole several historical art pieces and artifacts from their largest and most prestigious museum all while leading them on a goose chase for some made-up case of tycoons who steal their own wives’ jewels. It got messy when Nakamaru had been convinced their own department was in on it. Along the lines of records and their state of employment, he was sure they were treading on thin ice still pursuing something they were clearly so useless at. They honestly shouldn’t even be expecting a gold star.

Still, as much as it had become really difficult to justify tailing just one elusive cat burglar, it was just that little bit worth it when his partner was just as neurotic about _closure_ as he was.

Taguchi stuffed the remainder of his powdered jelly doughnut in his mouth and said around a mouthful, “What if he’s not up there?” His fingers looked sticky; why didn’t he use wet wipes for his own hands?

Nakamaru gripped the steering wheel tightly, glaring at the dark streets through the windshield, a knife singing in his veins. “He _has_ to be. Every lead we’ve had so far has pointed us to this building.” He pointed at a dilapidated set of flats with their dusty windows and cracked, peeling paint. “This is where he lives when he comes home.”

Taguchi leaned forward, pressing his thumb to his lips with a reprehensible smacking noise over jelly remnants as he peered up at the higher windows. “We could go up there,” he said carefully. “We could just check.”

Nakamaru’s eyes narrowed. “We could not. Do _you_ have an excuse to do a spot-check up there? We can’t get a warrant at this point and neither you or I would blend in-- _despite your best efforts_ ” He added when Taguchi looked over at him, trying to win awards for his kicked-dog look. “We need him out of his comfort zone; we’ve got to get him talking and then...” He stopped like it wasn’t at all a possibility and saying it might make it worse.

“...Then he’s all ours,” Taguchi finished for him, looking a little fevered.

Rightfully so; they’d drawn up charts about this guy, written long profiling essays on who he was, what he _meant_ , and explained at considerable length to anyone who’d listen just _why_ they _had_ to get this one. He was their first, and even if coming to the point where their chief inspector called them ‘the obsessive-compulsive monolith’--which put them on the roster for counselling and yet _another_ psych-eval-- he may as well be their last.

Nakamaru was different than Taguchi though. He knew Taguchi really well; probably too well considering Nakamaru hadn’t cared for him much when they were in training. Something about Taguchi had grown on him though and like any partnership under a long period of duress and hard work, they shared _everything_. Schedules, achievements, failures, and a pot of coffee every morning. The most anticlimactic truth to Nakamaru’s relationship with his partner was that he’d decided he liked Taguchi from the moment he’d walked into work with a box of doughnuts filled with custard and told him to help himself. Their relationship had grown into a strategic and never-addressed exchange of making concessions and offering each other doughnuts.

Even if they’d been at this for five years, and even if neither of them had slept for more than two hours the past week, Nakamaru was self-aware. He knew that sometimes when he remembered all the times their perp had slipped away, he’d be so agonised by his own ineptitude that he’d make Taguchi sit up with him in the gun range for hours afterward. He also knew that Taguchi’s cleaning habit was becoming a problem; the stick shift thing; that was weird and Nakamaru was almost a hundred percent sure there was something about antibiotics and their effect on a person’s overall performance. Or it could have been something to do with immunity. Either way, their obsession was bad news.

“Tanaka...Koki,” Taguchi muttered under his breath. He probably thought Nakamaru couldn’t hear him or he knew and it didn’t matter because they were thinking the same thing. Their suspect and how he’d completely wrecked the both of them.

“Want to go over the plan again?” Nakamaru prompted, taking his hands off the wheel to sit back.

Taguchi didn’t look at him. “Yeah...”

“What do we do the moment he leaves the building?” he began, settling into the repeated query like a comfort mantra.

“Tail him at a distance; cover from all exits if he ends up at an intersection.”

“If he sees you or me?”

“Approach, but don’t alarm him.”

“And if he pulls out a weapon?”

Taguchi finally twisted to look at him again, a weird as anything rueful smile on his face. “Let it go.”

Nakamaru knew that would be wrong but he only reached up and rubbed his hands over his eyes exhaustedly. When this was over, he was going to sleep for days. “Maybe that’d be better. I’m so sick of this, but I can’t let it go.”

Taguchi sighed. “If _you_ let it go, I could.”

Nakamaru processed this, surprised that it echoed exactly what he’d been thinking. “I’m always hoping you let go first.”

The car was, for a moment, filled with the huff of their bitter laughter and the second by second replay of each time they’d let him get away.

Taguchi sat up again, giving the building another glance as his mouth tightened in a half-smile, half-grimace. “It’s not even us. We’re _good_ at this, right? We’ve done some good things now and then, haven’t we?”

Nakamaru shrugged. “We’ve had our good days now and then, but with small infractions, easy drug busts. I don’t even know anymore. It’s tough to tell when we’re so busy trying to get after someone so damn slippery.”

Taguchi drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “I keep thinking of the time we cornered him in an elevator. How did he even kick out that light _and_ slip out of its ventilation system?” he asked quickly on a note of hysteria. “It’s amazing.”

“Amazing, yeah.” Nakamaru kept a hand over his eyes as he let the image pick at his brain. “He’d have to be able to crawl with next to no leg room. I’ve never seen anyone so--so...”

“Flexible,” Taguchi supplied before he started chewing at his lower lip. “He’s small, though. Could probably just shimmy his way through.”

Nakamaru felt his mouth quirk in spite of himself. “Like that time you grabbed him and he just went limp enough that _you_ let him go?”

Taguchi dropped his head back against the headrest, eyes shutting. “Yeah...that was...”

He didn’t have to say it; Nakamaru had seen the look on his face from across that room; he’d even sat silent in the desk across from him when Taguchi had come back into the station afterward and clutched at his own sleeves, closed in his own sudden epiphany that he’d had him that close yet _still_.

They had barely discussed it anyway and Nakamaru had had to resist bringing it up because there was decidedly taboo factor to watching your partner grab hold of a perpetrator and feeling an instant horrible clench of of arousal.

“Maybe he just surprised you that time,” Nakamaru offered.

It got worse when he started to dream of Taguchi’s hands-- then gripping a fistful of Koki’s clothes-- relaxed as light as fingertips to trace slowly-- just right so he’d be re-drawing Koki-- lines up and down, cupping curves and clenching to make Koki hurt and moan like he wanted it.

Taguchi looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “He’s just really...” He stopped, seeming to consider a whole dictionary of adjectives as their collective memoryof him bloomed over the present. “...really good,” he finished lamely.

“Yes...” Nakamaru agreed, waiting as the inevitable self-awareness pinpointed the utter mania this conversation categorised them in.

Instead a speculative silence passed them with Tanaka Koki between them like a fiction; cloying them towards the type of doom that stood indifferently over their broken careers.

As a light went on in one of the windows of the flat, Nakamaru considered saying what he’d been thinking; rules and regulations; protocol they had to be sure and observe because as much as they were both this desperate, they couldn’t do anything they’d regret. He sometimes worried that that fevered look Taguchi adopted over the subject-- and specifically the fact that it had become permanent since they’d caught their most recent lead-- meant they might very well be calling in a coroner before the night was out.

“Well, I have a honey cruller with your name on it,” Taguchi broke in suddenly, cheerful like they hadn’t just been despairing. He held up the paper doughnut bag with a flourish.

“One more,” Nakamaru replied. “Perhaps we should share.”

Their weakness for sweet things too; they’d have to work on that.

He was just on his third when Taguchi elbowed him and nearly knocked a chocolate glaze out of his hand. Nakamaru followed his gaze and watched, quite rapt, as the rickety glass front door of the old flat swung open and their target stepped out onto the wet streets.

He was wearing a cap, but his figure was unmistakable. He moved like he was made of sinew and strictly that while he kept his hands in his thin jacket pockets, shoulders shirked against the humid night and looking so inconceivably tiny between stone buildings and the towering overpass.

“That’s him,” Taguchi breathed.

Nakamaru couldn’t swallow the crumbs in his mouth. “Yes, that’s him,” he managed as they watched him cut a path across the street at a light jog, his short-heeled boots clacking in shallow puddles.

Even in the dank, humid street it was like watching someone out for a run under the sweltering sun. Koki from that distance was burning Nakamaru with heat, traversing over him, little agonies, all while mocking him; completely healthy and enabled. Sane.

The trouble with tailing a pedestrian target in a vehicle at night was how they couldn’t switch on their headlights, and Nakamaru had to cruise in neutral for all of a couple blocks. It was when he turned up an alley that they were able to gun the engine and race around the set of skyscrapers he’d stolen around to get to the back-streets.

When they pulled up around and shut off the lights again, Taguchi made a wordless sound and pointed at a distant figure walking up some steps toward a walking park.

“We’ve got to go on foot from here,” Nakamaru muttered.

“ _I’m_ ready,” Taguchi responded like Nakamaru had asked.

They parked the station-issued ghost car by a resident hill and picked up the pace to follow. Taguchi was eerily good at this; so he’d proved himself in the stealth training during boot camp but he’d never dropped the technique so Nakamaru let him lead.

Tanaka Koki pulled his hood up as he stepped along a line of short trees and park benches, displaying absolutely no knowledge of them. Nakamaru made sure to stroll like they were both just out for a quiet evening walk, but neither of them said a word. He kept glancing at Taguchi for cues where he’d simply cock his head in a direction to let Nakamaru know when they’d have to deviate so as to anticipate any turns.

It had to be about 2 a.m. There shouldn’t be anyone wandering the park alone at night like this and it made Nakamaru wonder what the guy did for fun; where he would go on a Friday night; if he took days off or if this was all he was; the elusive street walker who stole government-owned antiques and precious art.

Before they knew it, he was trotting down another set of steps back into the city minor. There was a narrow street with already closed storefronts, all locked up behind metal doors with nothing but remaining litter and the bubble of music from the radios that some of the late-night snack booths played.

Taguchi glanced at him as they stopped at the entrance of the street, let Koki head further down before they’d follow at a hurry. He seemed to want to say something, but his wide eyes remained fixed on their target until he had strode halfway down street after which Taguchi leant in with a low whisper. “The next street leads on to a chain of love hotels. After that, there’s a dead end.”

Nakamaru pulled him onto the curb by the lapel of his jacket. “You think he knows?”

Taguchi’s eyes darted off again toward Koki consideringly. “I can’t tell. He’s never slowed his pace; he’s not making any snap decisions; this was definitely his destination to begin with. If he goes in one of them...”

Nakamaru clenched his teeth. This might be the stripper bar all over again. They’d tailed Tanaka Koki all the way across town and he’d had them walk right into the place where it was payment for cover and they couldn’t leave because he’d already told the owner that his two “friends” were coming and had ordered a lapdance for both of them. Nakamaru hadn’t been able to look any of his female co-workers in the eye for weeks.

Nakamaru took a deep breath, feeling a heat beginning to climb him all over again. He gulped down the renewed dryness in his throat before looking at Taguchi again; he was clearly waiting for his call on this. “All right, let’s go. He goes in, one of us follows and the other will cover from outside before following too.”

“Works for me,” Taguchi muttered before zipping up his jacket quickly and stepping off the curb to start off on a jog with Nakamaru right on his heel.

As predicted, once they’d reached the turn-off at a sprint, they caught a quick glimpse of Koki walking right into a love hotel with the curvy neon-sign script ‘ _Secret Door_ ’. Taguchi nudged him as they both followed side by side until they stood just on either side of the entrance. Nakamaru leaned around the corner of the entryway and spotted Koki standing at the front counter.

“Could he get out the back?” he hissed quickly at Taguchi.

Taguchi shook his head. “There’s nothing but a wall from what I can see on this side.”

This was promising, but Nakamaru had been fooled so many times before. He side-stepped and signaled at Taguchi that he was going in. There was a brief, inexplicable moment where he felt a sheer sense that Taguchi was about to stop him, but it passed, drifted off the second he seemed to realise that Nakamaru would have to get in quickly before they’d be spending a fruitless evening searching what would likely be half a hundred rooms filled with unsavory activity.

The first door let out an aggravating creak as he walked in. And he felt the all-encompassing swoop through his middle every time they came within close quarters of Tanaka Koki. He would be trembling the next second if he didn’t steel his nerves and just behave naturally. Of course it did occur to him that he’d look odd regardless, walking in here alone especially right after Koki had walked in, but he was at a tether-end of resolve.

“...room thirty-five?” he heard Koki’s voice, asking the number slowly like he was memorising it and Nakamaru braced himself for the moment he might turn and inevitably see Nakamaru come in. He didn’t. The receptionist nodded and had already turned her gaze to Nakamaru just as Koki turned on his heel and hurried up the set of steps beside the reception.

Nakamaru quickly turned and nodded at Taguchi who stood a bit gawky in the entryway. He didn’t have time for niceties or second-guessing; he flashed his badge and whipped up the stairs after Koki, not even stopping to make sure Taguchi was in close pursuit.

They hit the third floor panting and Taguchi gasped out, “How do you know the room?” in as quiet a voice he could manage.

Nakamaru stopped him by the entrance to the hallway and peered in with his peripherals. “He said the number as I walked in.” He looked back at Taguchi who was looking a little pained suddenly like he knew what Nakamaru was thinking and was sure he didn’t like that he was thinking the same.

“Trap,” they murmured at the same time followed by a dark look.

“But _still_. Whatever he has for us, the idea is to get him _alone_ ,” Nakamaru whispered. “We just need enough from him that’d justify an arrest.”

Taguchi nodded and they made their move down the hall, eyeing door numbers as they passed them. Thirty-one to thirty-four. Nakamaru was leaning close to one wall and Taguchi the other in the event that one of the doors burst open. Finally room thirty-five stood in front of them, dark red knob on a black lacquered door.

“Do we...knock?” Taguchi queried suddenly, eyes wide and glittering a bit too much.

Nakamaru grimaced and shut his eyes. “It...would be protocol. Knock four times, wait, knock again, then enter.”

Taguchi squinted. “Protocol says we _can’t_ enter.”

Nakamaru licked his lips nervously. “Protocol also says we’re not even supposed to _be_ here!” he hissed. “The least we could do is _try_.”

When Nakamaru opened his eyes, Taguchi had his hands clenched around his arms from where he’d folded them. He was staring at the door knob and he was breathing quicker. Yeah, protocol said he had to get his partner out, but Nakamaru was almost physically aware that Tanaka Koki stood on the other side of this door. It was in a way that was unnatural and he could have sworn an oath that this was the reason they could win this; they’d worked over this case so hard they were in tune with it; in tune with Koki.

Taguchi released a faint breath. “What if the door’s open?” he said at last.

Nakamaru wouldn’t have been able to say later why Taguchi’s question seemed to make sense at the time, or why he’d discarded protocol in a quick second because of it when he reached out to give it a try. He turned the knob slowly and they both nearly hit the wall opposite when the lock clicked open.

“Well... _damn_ ,” Taguchi uttered in a rare candid moment. They exchanged a glance, both on fire with apprehension and a whole five years of resignation.

The room was as deeply and gaudily decorated as the rest of the hotel. Reds and blacks, metal where wood would have done fine; framed photos on the walls of people in implicative positions, a night-table with a sticker that said ‘help yourself’ on the drawer, a large elaborate bed with hanging purple gauze and in the corner a chair and in it, just perfect to complete the image, sat Tanaka Koki.

Nakamaru recalled the first time he and Taguchi had caught sight of him. It was in their younger days; they’d been deployed to the scene of a financial office break-in. They didn’t know what had been stolen at the time, and the air task force had reported a sighting of the suspect on the roof of the adjacent skyscraper. Nakamaru had stood in the streets amid a convoy of other squad cars when Taguchi had nudged him, and pointed.

Together they’d watched a small figure take a running leap right off the edge of the roof with a rig and rope line following him in a long wave. He was a shadow figure beautifully arched for impact and landing.

Daredevil didn’t culminate everything he was in one word enough; to Nakamaru, he seemed fearless, limitless and everything Nakamaru didn’t know how to be. And there he sat, harmless smile and a look like he didn’t give much of a thought for how much Nakamaru wanted to not want him.

Nakamaru would later remember the sound of the door shutting behind him. Taguchi doing one of his inexplicable gestures and shutting it tight, making a show of locking it. Lies weren’t about to happen; neither of them would be fooled. They were eye to eye and on equal ground.

Koki smiled, folding one leg over his knee and gripping his own ankle in a decidedly comfortable disposition. He had changed some since the last time they’d laid eyes on him; his previously blonde hair was now black, falling around his face in curled tendrils. His jacket was off, laid over the back of his chair and he seemed simple enough in his t-shirt and regular trousers. He’d never smiled at them before and there was something in that which had Nakamaru taking a full step back and Taguchi taking one forward.

“So, hi,” he said. He was looking between the both of them in a deliberately unassuming way. Nakamaru knew better; he was reading them both, trying to gauge which of them was the stronger one; which one of them would cave quicker. “It’s weird, us meeting again like _this_. Stalkers and the...stalkee.”

Taguchi was oddly still and Nakamaru was resisting a high temptation to grab him and pull him back. He didn’t want this to end with anything but conversation and then reading out rights. “You know we’re not stalkers. There isn’t anything unnatural about us keeping tabs on you; you’re a high-profile _criminal_.”

Koki’s eyes flickered over to Taguchi for a slow moment; too slow and Nakamaru didn’t dare look away to see Taguchi’s reaction. He waited patiently, bated breath before Koki looked at him again; his smile warmed, young and harmless. “Am I?” he queried with genuine interest.

Nakamaru frowned. “Of course you are,” he nearly spluttered. “ _Of course_...aren’t you?”

Taguchi cleared his throat or Nakamaru assumed; it was an odd sound, clipped and pointed. Nakamaru was nervous; their position was off; they wouldn’t be able to signal each other like this. He really wished Taguchi would stop looking at their suspect like that.

Koki laughed. “I don’t know,” he said like he’d finished off a doubtful thought. “Maybe you’re just deluded.” He shrugged and dropped his leg from his knee, gripping the armrests before getting to his feet suddenly, quickly enough that Taguchi made a flash of a gesture as if reaching for his holster.

Nakamaru was suddenly blessedly relieved he’d removed Taguchi’s gun in the car. Koki was looking at him with some smiling incredulity like Taguchi had gone and embarrassed himself somehow. Nakamaru himself felt horribly self-conscious because if it came down to it, they’d have to apprehend Koki physically and for some wild reason the thought of going near him seemed just about as bad as if Nakamaru had reached for his own gun.

“We’re just here to ask you about the historical artifacts; did you sell them?” Nakamaru pressed, keeping his wits only enough to apply negotiating tactics. All the more ridiculous because no one was pointing a weapon. It was simply the three of them, standing around a bed in a love hotel.

Koki pushed out his lower lip deliberately, as though to think but it made him look like a victim and Nakamaru knew more than ever he’d better not let Taguchi get any closer. Everything about this seemed suddenly very wrong. “I don’t want to talk about work,” Koki said. “Let’s talk more about how obsessed you are with me. I like that subject.”

Nakamaru swallowed. “I-I’m not.” His ears were incomprehensibly hot.

He couldn’t catch him; plainly put. He couldn’t grab hold of something that limitless. Even though Nakamaru was uncomfortably aware that he was looking at something within reach, Koki might as well have been a moon’s distance away.

Koki began his approach one step at a time. Nakamaru watched, frozen as he drew very near Taguchi who went as stiff as a board, towering over Koki in such a way that he looked like a large dog suddenly accosted by a tiny kitten. For a moment, as Koki tipped his head back to look at the full degree that was Taguchi, Nakamaru thought he might actually reach out. He didn’t; rather he made an almost vicious show of brushing past Taguchi, sidestepping so he came up close enough to him that there was purposeful brush. Then, he was just in front of Nakamaru, features all alight under the flattering lamps and glaring colour refractions of the walls. Nakamaru didn’t know why he couldn’t move; as if the action his brain was instructing him with-- to take a calm and meaningful step back-- didn’t coincide with how his more physical self might really be trying to reach out. He was already stuck in the image of it, taking both of his shoulders and fix a calm uncertainty of whether he was about to wring him senseless for ruining his life or just _give in._

Koki gave an impish laugh at whatever he saw in Nakamaru’s gaze before he reached up two of the smallest hands and made a sudden grab for Nakamaru’s jacket lapels. He bit his lip, eyes narrowing before pushing it suddenly off Nakamaru’s shoulders just as he twisted and looked over his shoulder right at Taguchi.

It became a frightful tense moment when Nakamaru was able to raise his eyes and register Taguchi looking at the both of them. He saw his own helpless destruction in that stare, mad and irredeemable from it. And suddenly he was saying, “Taguchi, don’t!” before Taguchi’s stark features curved into something venomous.

Koki was visibly ready for him even before Nakamaru could work out what Taguchi meant to do. He dropped Nakamaru’s jacket lapels so Nakamaru was left standing with his jacket only half-off and he did a limber twist, hooking a boot behind Taguchi’s ankle. They both collapsed in a heap on the bed, suddenly grappling.

It was a horrific flipswitch moment; one second Nakamaru was convinced they were fighting and he had moved to haul Koki off of him, but the next second, something went very quickly _wrong_. Taguchi fell on his back and instinctively got ahold of the scruff of Koki’s t-shirt, ripping him sideways so he fell and crashed with a breathless laugh and Taguchi made to climb astride him, Koki-- boots bottoms thick-- raised two legs and kicked the softer part of Taguchi’s thighs so his knees went out from under him and Koki had him rolling down backward and between his thighs with a sharp, ‘oof!’.

This all took no more than a couple seconds. Taguchi went limp and Koki sat right down on him comfortably. “ _Oh_ , you were easier than I expected,” said Koki a little gleefully. “I’m gonna have fun with you, aren’t I?”

Nakamaru moved for them, not even entirely sure he wasn’t going to make things worse especially when Taguchi closed his eyes, locked in a mix of a flinch and an expression that bled total bliss.

Koki looked up at him. “Stay put, would you? Or he gets something broken.” And he suddenly pressed the heel of his hand to the center of Taguchi’s throat just as he spread his legs, hooking his boots right under Taguchi’s knees, pulling them outward so they were completely locked together.

Nakamaru was shocked with outrage and an immense flood of longing. He’d never been so torn at telling Taguchi to _move_ when Koki’s former warning look melted into speculative intent when he smiled again. He curled his fingers in where they were pressed to Taguchi’s throat and they flexed slightly. Taguchi choked and his mouth fell open, branded in a lethal threat of the possibility of a finger-torn jugular.

Koki was provoking Nakamaru; like he knew his focus on him now was more raw and unharnessed than ever. It was like he knew he could do whatever he liked to Taguchi, take from Taguchi whatever he wanted from him and Nakamaru would probably not move an inch throughout. It was as though Nakamaru had been undone completely, waiting to be restarted on a revved engine any second from then..

He went to reach for his gun and was immediately startled when he grabbed at an empty space in his holster. He stared as Koki’s other hand came up, his finger looped around his trigger and he smiled that same youthful grin, almost savouring Nakamaru’s reaction.

“What do you want?” Taguchi broke out at last, eyes darting between Nakamaru and him.

Koki sat back, removing his hand from his throat, sliding the heel of his palm to Taguchi’s solar plexus, digging in so Taguchi groaned on the air he breathed in. “I’m not the one following you around,” Koki replied matter-of-factly. His stare didn’t falter when he zeroed it on Taguchi under him; it was a practiced reading look like a welcoming curiosity. “What do _you_ want?”

Taguchi gazed at him, wondering, like Koki had effectively knocked every puff of wind out of his sails. He seemed to waver on the verge of replying and Nakamaru felt a bit like he was seeing more of Taguchi than he had ever seen in all their five years together. Taguchi shook his head faintly, shutting his mouth.

Koki reached for Taguchi’s hand, his thumb pressed to his wrist and his palm pressing the back of it. He raised it up to study it with a semblance of confidence such a gesture wouldn’t have allowed on anyone else. Nakamaru circled a bit back as Taguchi seemed to take on as much non-movement as he could manage the way they were laying. “What do you want?” Koki repeated delicately as he melted his body over his in an especial focus toward his hips; a halted circle that could have been an accident. “Come on; you can tell me.”

Taguchi had gone rigid at that, a flush crawling up his cheeks and Nakamaru hoped desperately he could somehow regain Taguchi’s attention; drag him out of this somehow because it looked like hypnotism, a thrall that only seemed at all plausible in seconds like these. “Don’t answer that, Taguchi,” he said half-heartedly.

Koki shot him a glance. “Quiet, you. Can’t you see we’re trying to have a conversation here?” he said brightly, cajolingly like they were old friends.

He had his gun. Nakamaru wasn’t sure he wouldn’t use it and he was already mapping out any excuse he could offer their chief inspector for how _this_ particular predicament was even possible. If Taguchi could have just gotten his head back into gear; if Nakamaru could just get himself together...

Koki smiled down at Taguchi, gripped his wrist tightly and bent his lips to Taguchi’s palm before dipping his tongue into its center. Taguchi sucked in a sharp breath, swimming sharp black eyes going bright with undeniable pleading and Koki smiled into it, eyes going narrow as he gave it a long lick, dragging his tongue purposefully up so it played up Taguchi’s fingers. “Officer tastes like frosting,” Koki told him before closing his lips over the tips. He hollowed his cheeks as his lips roved up over knuckles and his eyes went hooded and he sucked like someone with a lollipop.

Nakamaru had stopped thinking properly and Taguchi made a faint sound void of consonants as Koki’s thighs flexed and he started to rock each time he took Taguchi’s fingers deep in his mouth, breathing shallow wet gasps around them. His eyes flickered over to Nakamaru and he circled his hips hard enough that Taguchi keened back, chest pressed out and a sheen of sweat forming at his temples.

“Nakamaru,” Taguchi whimpered. “I can’t...”

It felt strange coming to his senses there. Nakamaru had been staring without a word, taking in the evocative sight of Taguchi pulled out to bits under Koki’s body. Taguchi sobbed just as Koki pulled his fingers out of his mouth with a slurp and smiled because Taguchi had already begun rocking on his own, discarded hand now cast above his head with the other threaded into the denim of Koki’s belt loop so he could jerk him on counterpoint. His jacket was open, slacks dragging down under Koki’s jeans from the friction and his lips were soon parted in a voiceless plea.

Koki shot him a sly look again and Nakamaru realised his hands were in fists and he still hadn’t moved. Reality was warped where he stood and Taguchi had gone practically incoherent under Koki. It was difficult to keep his breathing under control and the curling reaction from his gut down was betraying any chance of them coming back from this.

Koki made a crooning, sympathetic noise at Taguchi when he arched again; it had an edge of mocking to it. Nakamaru watched the full line of the both of them; so perfectly fit and the blazing visions of his dreams all shifted together against the shocking sight of the two of them, arching in one form on the bed. Koki bit his lip and straightened some so he could throw his head back, shake his curls out of his eyes with a wicked look at Nakamaru.

Koki’s pace slowed until he came near to a stop and Taguchi’s nails trailed whitened lines on Koki’s hip as he scrambled. “Ah, don’t...” he moaned, completely forgetting himself. Nakamaru’s mouth went dry when Koki raised the pistol again, gripping the end and fingering the trigger as he pointed it down at Taguchi. Taguchi shuddered a faint broken sob as he screwed his eyes shut, frozen in fear and clearly wanting Koki to either go on or kill him. It was hard to tell.

Koki was still looking at him, flushed and breathing hard. He seemed to have noticed Nakamaru looking in mounting distress at Taguchi. It was maddening that all he could formulate in coherent thought was that Taguchi was beautiful like this and he wanted him to have more control; wanted to watch him fold Koki in half there.

“Fine,” Koki huffed suddenly. “You get no points for participation, so we’ll play your way.”

Nakamaru almost backpedaled when Koki thrust the gun at him grip-first; he had a small fist wrapped around its barrel. He opened his mouth to ask “”What?” but he knew he’d sound rough; hoarse with how his throat was dry and his tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth. Instead he reached out and took it, actually fearful that Koki was done with them; that he’d have to take him in and...

“You...” He cleared his throat to make his voice work. “You were in control when you had this. What good would giving it to me do?”

Koki rolled his eyes and shifted a bit higher, making a soft hushing sound at Taguchi when he tugged at him and groaned through his teeth. “I don’t need that to get what I want,” he explained roughly, nodding at the gun. “And nor do you because as much as your little serve and protect system is all about force, I can tell you like a bargain and judging from the way you keep watching your partner, you want him most when he’s on _me_.”

Nakamaru had no words.

“So let’s make that bargain...” he continued softly, lashes lowering as he glanced feverishly at Taguchi. The notion hung in the air as Koki trailed pretty fingers along the hem of Taguchi’s button-up before slipping up under the fabric and teasing along his belt buckle. “You give me what I want-- one night with you and him-- and in return, I offer you the wrists for those handcuffs of yours.”

Nakamaru squinted at him, hardly believing his ears. He tried not to pay attention to the fact that Taguchi was sending him guiltily impatient looks as he mulled it over. Just one night and this nightmare would be over; he and Taguchi’s mishap slate would be cleaned and they’d be able to bring him in. There wasn’t much to lose. “Why would you let us arrest you?” he pressed, trying not to look at Taguchi who sighed plaintively.

Koki sat back. “I started this to pay off a debt, I’ve done everything I’ve had to, and now I want to pay whatever dues I owe, I’ve got a good lawyer anyway...”

“J-just take the offer, Nakamaru!” Taguchi suddenly snapped.

Nakamaru glared. “You’re in _no_ position to be telling me how to negotiate! You were highly recommended for your martial arts skills! What the fuck was that just then?”

Taguchi twisted around to fix a withering look on him. There were no doughnuts to appease this one. “You were supposed to come to the gym and spar with me every week! If I’m rusty, it’s your fault!”

Nakamaru was livid. He’d made it clear to Taguchi that he felt an officer’s job was control, not combat. “You’re starting with me on this again? Here? Now?! I’ve never complained about your doodling on the corners of my reports or the fact that you wet-wipe _everything_ but your hands--”

Taguchi was up on his elbows by then; he looked outraged, which was a bit rich. “Oh, you never complain? You complain about _everything_ all the time; you’re only so lucky that.of all things, I decided to stuff your mouth with _doughnuts_ just to shut you up!”

That would have been it; Nakamaru was a step away from hauling Taguchi from the room to _show_ him a tight-fisted reason why he’d opted out of combat. He even took the step forward, but Koki let out a deeply exasperated sound with a muttered, “For fuck’s sake...” before he lifted himself off of Taguchi and swung himself so he was kneeling at the end of the bed where he grabbed Nakamaru by the belt and pulled him in.

It was unreal. Koki threaded fingers in his hair and tugged him down into his mouth. He pressed himself hot and hungry against Nakamaru like he hadn’t been sitting there languidly discussing all this like some sort of cash barter. Nakamaru heard a sharp, wanton noise, seemingly still steely from anger, lance out of him when Koki’s tongue flicked over his. He lapped like he was guiding Nakamaru’s against his, and he opened his mouth so Nakamaru could devour him.

It was so much worse when he felt the bed shift; Taguchi getting up to shake his jacket off. Then, his hands followed where Nakamaru’s scraped down Koki’s sides, tripped over ribs and shaped palms over his waist. It made him hotter the way Koki’s stomach tensed, flexing a sinuous response against Nakamaru’s palms through Koki’s thin t-shirt. Koki moaned right into his mouth, breathing a sweet taste on his tongue because Taguchi had risen up, sliding fingers where Nakamaru’s were, coming around from behind Koki and slipping to his belt buckle so he was a groping shape between them.

Koki broke off to breathe. He was hard and it was obvious from the way he kept being pressed taut right on Nakamaru that Taguchi was rutting up on him from behind as he unsheathed his belt. Koki dug against his thigh, licking across Nakamaru’s lower lip when Taguchi got him undone. Nakamaru was delirious over his mouth, how he licked and nipped at the right moments and the unbridled way he sucked at the tip of his tongue whenever Nakamaru pulled back a ways.

Koki murmured a complacent sigh over Nakamaru’s parted lips, and Nakamaru only felt it when he nuzzled over his cheek, grinding in a little bit harder over the front of Nakamaru’s trousers, edging him up and making Nakamaru’s cock dredge a mean fricative along the inside of his shorts. He loved that and made it known by leaning in again and biting Koki’s lower lip softly. Taguchi had a hand in Koki’s jeans and they were starting to rock in tune against Nakamaru as he stood, gripping Koki at the hips, tentatively getting used to Taguchi’s hand near his crotch and how it was making him want more.

Koki broke away again and smiled. “Now you two kiss and make up, kay?” he chided, sliding his fingers from where they’d probably mussed up Nakamaru’s hair completely. Nakamaru opened his eyes when Koki cupped his cheeks and guided him to Taguchi, who had his eyes shut and was still slowly edging the shape of his cock along Koki’s ass while breathing sharp and shallow against the side of Koki’s throat. “You’re partners, aren’t you? Get along better,” Koki continued, dropping one hand from Nakamaru’s face to reach behind him and tug on Taguchi’s shirt.

Nakamaru was simply going to go through with it; he wasn’t thinking and he was already prepared to adopt the thought that it would mean nothing; that it would be like only an hour before; the both of them side by side in a sort of resigned despair, passing a doughnut back and forth, getting their fingers sticky over something they both couldn’t get enough of. Their shared guilty obsession.

It was Taguchi reaching out and grabbing his tie that made Nakamaru open his eyes. They looked at one another, aware that Koki was watching the both of them avidly; aware that they’d never taken any of it this far, but certain and almost anticipating the fact that it would happen despite all of that. Taguchi’s mouth curved up, rueful and a bit sweet; the same as it had been in the car around a mouthful of jelly and suddenly Nakamaru was grabbing for him.

It was momentous. He could feel Taguchi smiling between kisses, closing his lips testingly along the swell of Nakamaru’s before he parted them with his tongue. It was slower than it was with Koki and it made every hair on Nakamaru’s head stand on end. His tongue swept like a familiar taste, sugar and breath mints and all sorts of new. Nakamaru was instantly annoyed with himself that he hadn’t done this before. Perhaps it opened him to the idea that their collective madness wouldn’t have been so highly concentrate if maybe they’d at the very least got each other off. The construct of being partners was another thing, but to stand side by side with someone in a well of their own repeated failures, _this_ would at the very least have cheered him up some.

“God,” Nakamaru breathed.

“Yeah,” Taguchi whispered back before his eyes slid shut as he darted his tongue along the tip of Nakamaru’s with a rough, hungry bite of his lips.

In some recess of awareness, he felt Koki nuzzle between them, lapping in so Taguchi let go of Nakamaru’s tie and got a hand over Koki’s jaw, brushing their lips together briefly; it seemed to trigger something electrical between them because Taguchi rocked in again and Koki hissed into their kiss. Koki arched his back, turning to reach out then, grabbing Nakamaru by the back of his neck and pulling him in again. It was when Taguchi had begun nibbling down Koki’s throat that he gasped a little desperately over Nakamaru’s lips again, saying with the deepest conviction, “I think I want you in my mouth.”

At first Nakamaru couldn’t register the words until Koki pulled back and set his hands on his buttons and belt buckle, undoing it hurriedly. He watched in something like awe as Koki shoved his trousers down off his hips and pulled him out. He twisted around quickly to glance at Taguchi. “You know what to do,” he said saucily and Taguchi immediately moved back for the night table as Koki bent over, spreading his thighs forward and braced himself on the mattress edge. Nakamaru had to quickly support him by the shoulders when he wrapped his hand, warm and just a little sweaty over Nakamaru’s cock. He paused for moments, looking up at Nakamaru with the brightest, most stirring gaze. He propped his elbow on the mattress as he started to work him hard with one hand.

He raised Nakamaru’s cock to his lips and Koki had such _pretty_ lips, Nakamaru couldn’t help observing when Koki darted out a pink tongue along the underside. Nakamaru nearly doubled-up and wished frantically he had something to grab onto. The thought fled when Koki’s tongue dragged a wet circle upward and dipped into the slit of the head and Nakamaru’s hands went instinctively from Koki’s shoulders to his hair.

Taguchi climbed from the night table holding a bottle in hand and Nakamaru only mildly registered him settling behind Koki to yank his jeans down because he was focussed on the feeling of Koki dipping at a teasing pace along the slit, licking up each droplet of pre-ejaculate as Nakamaru grabbed harder. He shut his eyes tight as Koki dropped a faint kiss, smearing his lips pointedly with him, barely parting them to keep Nakamaru fighting not to fuck into the heat of his mouth.

A splash of breath covered the tip of his dick when Koki let out a soft mewl, making Nakamaru open his eyes to the sight of Taguchi cupping Koki’s bare ass and thrusting his fingers in. He was bent over Koki and his cobalt black hair had fallen over his eyes, masking the upper half of his face, only revealing how he had his lips parted in a fixation on the sight Koki’s laid-out form made. Koki’s mouth went slack, completely overcome; his grip loosening when Taguchi sped up. Nakamaru held the back of Koki’s head and clenched his teeth. He must have said something begging because Koki lifted a glazed stare at him as Taguchi bent further forward, huffing out a sharp breath. Taguchi’s arm flexed as he rolled his fingers in, possibly adding another because Koki twitched and gasped right on Nakamaru’s cock.

“Koki...” Nakamaru hissed. It was the first time he said his name and Koki’s eyelashes were tinged with moisture when he lowered them. He kept his mouth open as Taguchi started to do something with his fingers and he began whimpering before going muffled when Nakamaru couldn’t wait anymore. He held Koki as gently as he could manage, practically frantic with the need for more heat, and canted in.

It struck like gooseflesh; a full shiver as Koki closed his lips and practically swallowed him. He felt the curl of Koki’s hot tongue and the wet soft silk as he almost gagged. Taguchi swore and raised his head to shake his hair out of his eyes, sweat making the strands cling as he watched Koki’s head start to bob up and down on Nakamaru’s cock. Nakamaru clung to handfuls of Koki’s curls, starting to rock faster, watching as Koki’s lips stripped hot lines up and down him to the hilt.

Taguchi rose to his knees behind Koki, unzipped and pulled his drawers down so he was fully out. Nakamaru watched how Taguchi held himself and pressed the head, teasing himself over the skin of Koki’s ass. Koki must have felt the head drag a line down one cheek because he arched his back and shuddered a growl right through Nakamaru’s middle and Nakamaru could barely breathe as Koki hollowed his cheeks so it was harder to fuck his mouth any faster than at a pace that wasn’t anything near enough.

Taguchi uttered a vehement curse when he lifted himself in and Nakamaru caught his eye. He seemed to be asking a silent question and Nakamaru slowed enough that Koki’s grip on the base of him tightened so he could pull back and his voice was hoarse when he spoke, “Go slow, all right?”

Taguchi nodded, looking positively incapable of obeying, but when he made his first thrust, he edged in bit by bit, keeping a steady gaze on the both of them. He was seemingly awaiting a cue. Soon Koki’s mouth was back on him and Nakamaru had to steel himself further to be teased, only barely able to wonder what Koki had in mind. It couldn’t matter what with how the cradle of Koki’s tongue felt again.

Nakamaru was quickly unable to move in any rhythm as Taguchi started up his own, fucking Koki right onto him. He kept it slow, however, hips snapping him in while Koki’s grip on the edge of the mattress seemed to slip from each hit. Nakamaru could only hang on and try not to buckle at the knees when Koki’s moans started to climb and vibrate like a stab right into him and he struck somewhere at the back of Koki’s throat and he cried out, discovering a barbed state of bliss in breathless seconds. That might have done him in, but Koki abruptly squeezed him with a startling clench of his fist and the ripping wave dropped in a painful protest, making Nakamaru’s hands drop from Koki’s hair as he practically _did_ double-up. Taguchi stopped with some leveled restraint when Koki pulled Nakamaru from his now full red lips with a slurp, licking the corner of his mouth as he rose up.

“C’mere,” he demanded of Nakamaru, pushing himself up and Taguchi had to pull out and fall back on the bed when Koki scooted backwards. Nakamaru followed, his limbs almost jelly as he attempted to crawl close enough.

Koki slipped out of his shirt and tore at his boots, kicking them off so his jeans could follow and Taguchi helped with some urgency before they both abruptly reached for Nakamaru to divest him just as eagerly. His handcuffs clipped to his trousers clanked together when Koki tossed them off the side of the bed with a quick, secretive look. He was even more tantalising like that; he seemed more comfortable without clothes and he didn’t complain when Taguchi reached for him, dragging him back like a doll.

Taguchi wrapped his arms around Koki from behind, enfolding him in a way that was so intimate Nakamaru wondered if two strangers could really be that instantly bound because Koki responded to it with an indulgent smile, tipping his face a little so he could nuzzle along Taguchi’s jaw. He whispered something sweet, a smile forming, “ _I wanna keep both of you_.”

Taguchi brightened with a slow, pained smile and he looked at Nakamaru. Nakamaru almost didn’t want to reach out and break that tiny second, but he knelt between Koki’s thighs and absently ran his fingers over Koki’s stretched out stomach, riddled with a new thrill when Koki twitched and spread his thighs even more. He kissed up Taguchi’s cheek and down his neck as Taguchi splayed his fingers down Koki’s thighs in a sudden heated, shivering worship.

And it was a jagged truth in Nakamaru suddenly; beautifully bright and clear like daybreak. He _loved_ how Taguchi’s hands looked on Koki, loved how they looked wound together because in Taguchi’s touch, there was an abandon that could forget entirely that Koki was not theirs, that they couldn’t just steal him away, or that he was so limitless even like this. Nakamaru couldn’t forget any of that if he tried and he _needed_ Taguchi here, needed him there as pro-active witness to protect the pretense that this wasn’t wrong.

Nakamaru watched Koki arch when Taguchi reached under him, still nuzzling behind his ear. He reached for the cast aside bottle with his other hand. “Ever taken two at once?” he murmured at Koki.

Koki licked his lips, bracing himself on Taguchi’s arm as he uncurled his legs and made a beckoning gesture at Nakamaru. “Is that what you want me to do?” he asked in Nakamaru’s direction and Nakamaru actually laughed because Taguchi shot him a sharp, speaking look right away.

He couldn’t even make the words of response come out of him, but Koki had already raised himself up in to make room for Nakamaru and Taguchi tipped the bottle over his hand from behind. Koki then pulled at Nakamaru from his arms, looking suddenly impatient until Nakamaru laid his legs over Taguchi’s outstretched ones. From their position Nakamaru could see Taguchi’s fingers now slick and dripping with lube slip along the curve of Koki’s tailbone, leaving a gleaming stripe of it in his wake.

Koki leaned forward on Nakamaru with a soft, complacent sound and a hitched breath when Taguchi touched his fingers to his rim again. He pressed his face against Nakamaru’s neck suddenly, hissing out a string of expletives and grinding his hips back, slipping the softest skin across Nakamaru’s whole front every time he moved. Nakamaru couldn’t stop touching Koki as he ground against Taguchi’s fingers, every muscle on his body taut with exertion. He canted himself down, shifting in short, unpatterned undulations, Nakamaru’s cock wound up pressed to the stretched skin along the inside of his thigh and it caressed a thin, naked friction on the tip. It elicited a growl from him as he began to really want to feel Koki inside. Koki was trembling between them, skin beginning to cling to both of them as he kept rutting helplessly.

“Fuck,” Taguchi hissed, forehead leaned over Koki’s spine. “Touch him, Nakamaru.”

Nakamaru didn’t even have to move, but he kept digging his heels into the mattress, arching busied himself curling a hand around Koki, jerking him through his fingers so Koki was gripping his shoulders and rocking sporadically as Taguchi fingered him again. With his other hand, he slipped between Koki’s thighs, digging in when he grazed over his perineum. When his fingers touched Taguchi’s knuckles just on the verge of sliding in, swallowed into tightness, Koki shuddered. Nakamaru slipped in and over Taguchi’s fingers, slick suction having them both clinging together inside him. Taguchi spread his fingers and Nakamaru followed suit, lost as he kissed along the sharp line of Koki’s shoulder and Koki in turn gasped a burning wash of breath over his collarbone.

Taguchi’s tongue darted out along the grooves of Koki’s spine, his eyes shut and expression so pained like he was the one being opened. Nakamaru felt it like contagion, moaning a little at the direct contact they were both making and how adding just one more finger had Koki wrapping frantic hands over Nakamaru’s back and clinging with his fingers curled.

“ _Please_...” he begged, and when he rubbed his cheek over Nakamaru’s chest, he felt a wetness streak like tears.

Nakamaru crowded Koki a bit, leaning into Koki’s reaching fingers scrawling a hungry pattern over his back. It took some maneuvering with Koki rubbing himself on Nakamaru and gasping wet patterns over his chest, but he managed to pull Koki over him. Taguchi exhaled hotly before he gripped Koki at the ribs, raising him up in one motion like he weighed nothing. “Go on,” Taguchi whispered breathlessly at him. “You first,”

Seemed a strange sentiment to appreciate, but Nakamaru was grateful nonetheless because he was almost certain he couldn’t hold off anymore. He waited and held Koki by the hips as Taguchi lowered him slowly onto Nakamaru.

It was _hot_. Feverish and tight around him and Nakamaru groaned and felt his fingers dig deep and still slick over Koki’s angular hips. Taguchi jolted him briefly, making Koki take him all the way in and he must’ve fallen into a void of sharp words because he felt his own lips dragging those words out against Koki’s pert skin. Taguchi didn’t wait long, dropping one hand to himself as Nakamaru’s upper arms shook from the weight, supporting Koki long enough until the head of Taguchi’s cock edged up his and slid slow along the protesting skin of Koki’s opening.

Koki went rigid, a high mewling cry spilling out of him and his arms around Nakamaru tightened. “Relax,” Nakamaru murmured at him, already seeing stars himself. “Oh fuck, Taguchi...”

Taguchi growled as he eased in and Koki’s fingers slid over Nakamaru’s back in sharp spurts of movement, digging in his ribs as he started to swear out new pleas.

It felt like a sudden frenzy struck the three of them; every spike of tension in his skin and theirs rode right into them and Koki was impaled between them, curling in as Nakamaru drove in. They were each caught on a moan because it was so tight and Koki kept arching back, pushing himself down on them in stilted patterns. Koki then threw his head back, overcome when Taguchi sped up, making Nakamaru have to pull out, only to thrust back in again, savouring the gritted friction of Taguchi’s cock pressed at Koki’s entrance, throbbing at counterpoints.

Nakamaru felt it rip right through him, but he kept a tight hold on Koki’s hips, aware that he was clutching enough to leave marks. He couldn’t get enough though and Taguchi was working him just as hard, ramming Koki down on them at an off-pace where Nakamaru could grind himself in desperately. He had to go still the last second, though, paralysed completely as he came. He clenched his teeth and saw only white and the coil of their skin together, tugged together as Taguchi kept a steady pace.

“Ugh, someone--” Koki begged, his voice breaking and alive. “I need...”

Nakamaru came back in a daze, still twitching in aftershocks as he grabbed at Koki again. He cupped him in his palm and Koki made a delicious curve over them both, letting out a pained cry. Taguchi was going faster and Nakamaru was wincing from how sensitive he felt. “Come on,” he begged a bit viciously, torn between pain and the stirrings of more want.

Taguchi’s end came as Koki’s fingernails curled into the skin of Nakamaru’s back, trailing an alarming scrape and Nakamaru’s grip on Koki tightened, jerking him off faster to Taguchi’s pace. The lights above them swirled as he felt the throb and mess hit under them and heard Koki still begging him for more. Then Koki was finished, arms loosening after what felt like an electric pulse shuddered through the three of them and Nakamaru could breathe again.

It was in some empty recess that he felt the cool duvet touch his back; he must have fallen, utterly done in. He stared, panting, at the ceiling with it’s cold blue lights and zig zag paint job, swimming in release. He heard Taguchi laugh suddenly and Koki’s head appeared over him; his lids looked heavy and his hair was a curly halo around his head.

“You can sleep if you want,” he said to him, voice raked thin and hoarse. “You look like you need to.”

Taguchi must have crawled over to him because the next second, his head dropped over Nakamaru’s arm and Nakamaru didn’t have the strength to push him off. He just brushed a lazy hand over Taguchi’s head and the hair that was splayed over his shoulder, muttering a faint and sleepy phrase that could have been anything from a curt ‘get off’ to a warmer ‘you idiot’. It didn’t seem to matter because he could feel Koki settling on the other end of the bed and that was fine.

Nakamaru gazed at the clock on the nightstand and its red glowing numbers reading **3:00 A.M.** and he wondered if he was even really going to sleep or if he just needed a few minutes at the very least.

He blinked and he was suddenly cold and the numbers still glared back at him, only they read **11:00 A.M.**

Nakamaru tried to sit up and immediately regretted it because he felt his left arm protest with a splintering shock. He looked around, dazed, expecting to be able to raise his hand to his face, push his hair out of the way. Instead he raised the hand that hurt less from where it was stretched and with it came the metallic clink of a handcuff attached to the wrist of his sleeping companion.

In his sleep fogged state, Nakamaru couldn’t piece it all together quickly enough and he sat there simply staring at his bound wrist and Taguchi’s. It really wasn’t until he did a double-take, eyes sweeping the room with mounting horror, that he knew three facts for certain.

The first that Koki was gone, long gone if the time on the clock was right. The second, that he’d handcuffed both of their opposing wrists, and the third, most awful of all, the key was completely visible, taped to the ceiling with clear sellotape.

It was only appropriate that Taguchi would stir, yanking him sideways abruptly when went to roll over. Nakamaru couldn’t even manage words for how furious he was with himself and he didn’t say anything as he heard Taguchi mutter a vague, “What the...” from beside him.

Of course only after they spent another grievous hour trying to jump high enough on the bed to reach the ceiling, did Nakamaru find the note tucked under his folded jacket.

 ** _Don’t make that face_** it said, _**I did say we’d put your handcuffs to use or something. Maybe next time you catch me, you’ll be a bit smarter. I feel bad, though, so I’ll leave you something. Check the records on which of the officers in your department’s been in and out of your evidence locker lately. You’ll find out something interesting.**_

He’d drawn a smiley face and some x’s and o’s under a curly-scripted ‘Yours truly’. Taguchi, then reading over his shoulder, broke into a horrible spate of giggles. Nakamaru folded the note and didn’t look at him because god knew he’d probably just join in.

This was, after all, a madness shared by two.


End file.
